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i need you all to know that i am fucking clueless and the list of ‘famous people’ that i have walked past, talked to, or launched into a spiel about the history of my workplace gets longer by the day
You stood in front of Jordan, his tall stature towering over you, as your heels lay discarded somewhere across the hotel room. The heat of his steel eyes piercing your skin as he looks you over, devouring you — mapping out every inch of your curves beneath the champagne silk of your dress. It was ardent and unrelenting.
You held your own. You embraced the attention. You felt a quiet confidence in the way his eyes dragged over every last detail of your body. With an anchoring breath, you set your shoulders back — showing him just how much you revelled under his gaze; just how much you had grown from the shy, wilting wallflower you were when you met him. And, God, that lit a fire in the pit of his stomach.
His hand reached out, landing on the curve of your hip. His finger trailed down slowly — the gesture gentle but teasing. You felt the warmth of his skin against yours as his touch dips below the hemline of your dress, grasping at your thigh with a rough hand. He squeezes — hard — enough to leave a visible print. Just how you liked it.
He stepped forward, bringing his body flush against yours. Then, another, as his hand comes up to haphazardly tug the black tie around his neck loose. Jordan forced you backwards, back pressing against the pane of the window. The cool glass contrasted against your feverish skin.
Your chin tipped upwards ever so slightly as the familiar beam coaxes the very corners of your lips upwards, and your eyes find his once more. The palm of his hand settled on your chin, the pad of his thumb dragging over your bottom lip roughly. "Fucking love it when the wine goes to your head," his deep voice rattled through his chest, laced with the top-shelf whiskey he'd been drinking all night.
Then, he dropped to his knees before you — his fitted dress pants straining against his muscular thighs. He knew what he was doing. His hands found your inner thighs almost immediately, nudging them apart. His hand grazed lower, finding the bend of your knee, and hooked it over his broad shoulder.
Like a starved man, his lips leave a trail of heat up your thigh. His teeth nip and bite along the sensitive skin, an eager smirk quirking his lips upwards. He pushed your lace thong to the side, his nose nuzzling at the soft fabric as his lips find your sensitive bud immediately. There's no easing you in. He sucks at your clit, tongue circling it with just the right amount of pressure.
You let out a breath, a low purr rumbling through your chest as your head tips backwards against the floor-to-ceiling window. You allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of his tongue relentlessly working your clit. Jordan doesn't let up — he continues sending ripples of pleasure through your body, lapping at your folds. He sucks hard, then licks again — never easing up, as he holds your hips in place with a firm grip.
A low, sultry moan slips from between your lips as you push your hips forward, desperate for the friction. "Ohhh," you can't help the way the sound just rolls off your tongue with such a dirty, filthy, grit to it.
You feel his smirk against your pussy; he loved you like this. He loved the way you so unapologetically indulged in the pleasure — in him. He loved when you found your confidence. He loved the way in which your hips would push against his mouth, fervently seeking out the sweet relief of pressure against your clit; and the saccharine taste of you on his tongue as you came undone.
He let out a dirty, almost depraved, laugh against you — the vibrations sending ripples through you. "Fucking love when you get like this."
Then, with a salacious nip to your inner thigh, he pulls himself to his feet. His hand remains glued to your curves, sliding along your silhouette as he straightens up. His steel-like eyes find yours, locked in an intense, unforgiving gaze, as he hands find his belt. The sounds of the buckle being undone echoed around the hotel room.
He lifted his chin — his stubble highlighted by the city lights, as he tugged on the zipper. You thrived under his searing stare, and after a moment of shuffling, you could feel the tip of his cock pressed against your folds. Your shoulders flattened flush against the window, grounding yourself, as he pushed inside. "Ohhhh," you purred lowly — your hips drawn like a magnet to his.
You feel the palm of his hand on your waist, his grip tight. Possessive, almost. He knows what he wants. Then, it trails purposefully down to your knee and pulls upwards with a distinct lack of patience. Your thigh wraps around his waist naturally, and he finds the angle he was looking for. His head tips backwards and his lips part, a brusque grunt slipping out.
His hips pick up their pace, pounding into you, as his lips find the crook of your neck. You feel his nose graze over your collarbone in a brief moment of affection before his teeth are grazing along your throat. He feels the distinct beat of your pulse as you swallow, and a low moan ripples through your vocal chords. "Fuck," he groans, voice like gravel, as his fingers dig into your waist and his otherr palm presses against the window.
The depraved dance between you both gets rougher, sloppier, as he finds that sweet, sweet spot that had you purring like the engine of a Ford Thunderbird. He nips at your neck, hips pushing forward with a delightful force, as you get louder.
He continues thrusting into you as the lively nightlife of Miami continues below, completely oblivious to your shameless indulgence.
Accidentally slipping into couple habits (buying each other food, remembering their exact coffee order, fixing their collar, etc.). with John stones pls!!! maybe friends to lovers <3
CHEAP BEER, WARM SKIN - JOHN STONES
masterlist | world cup party | make a request here
summary: pushing the boundaries of your friendship on a warm summer's evening never felt so natural.
warnings: idk she gets her tits out. touching? it's entirely too pg for the tone of this.
It was late. The mid-July sun had finally retired and left the sky in a blanket of vivid tangerine, and the humid air had finally relented. A gentle breeze blew through the open French double doors and circulated around the open-plan living space as the sound of the TV filled the background.
As the night had progressed, the small gathering had become smaller and smaller, bodies dropping one by one until it was just you and John left. You lay on your side on the cream sofa, a cushion propped beneath your head as your bare feet lay across his lap. Your painted toes pushed gently against the arm of the sofa, your calves resting casually on his thighs. He sat back lazily with his legs spread; he'd never looked more relaxed in his life.
A moment of stillness passed before you felt the soft pat of hand on your ankle. Letting out a soft huff of air, you lifted your feet, and John slipped out from beneath you. As he stood up, he grabbed his empty bottle of beer from the coffee table. His eyes briefly flicked over to your own empty glass; the same glass that he kept in his cupboard for nights like this; the same glass that was undoubtedly yours — with the scalloped rim and pink bow pattern repeated across the glass.
His feet pad gently against the carpet as he makes his way into the kitchen, the tiles a welcomed cool. He opens up the fridge and pulls out another bottle of beer, followed by a can of the blue raspberry vodka mix that you'd been drinking all night. He pops the cap off his beer with ease, takes a quick swig, and then pops four of the rounded ice cubes out the tray, into your glass. He pours the cocktail over the ice cubes and garnishes with a slice of lemon. It was just how you'd been making your drinks all night.
John made his way back to the sofa. He placed your glass of blue raspberry cocktail down on the coffee table in front of you and settled back down on the cushions. He leant back into cushions and spread his legs, just as he had before. Your feet returned to his lap in an instant, and he accepted them without complaint as he rested his palm gently on your ankle.
The minutes drag on with the only sound between you both being the TV, that was playing an episode of a long-running police drama. Then, you twist your body, reaching for the glass on the wooden coffee table. The warmth of his hand on your ankle spreads as you move, his soft palm gliding along the curve of your shin unintentionally.
You twist back and then shift onto your back, your feet now pressed against the arm of the sofa once again. You're restless. You let out frustrated huff of air, your wrist flailing over your forehead. "I'm warm," you gripe with a heavy sigh and peer up at John through thick, dark lashes.
His grey-green eyes fall to you as one hand brings the half-empty beer bottle up to his mouth, and the other now rubs soothing circles over your shin. He takes a swig of his beer in the most effortless manner before reaching over the arm of the sofa to press the button on the fan. A flurry of cool air blows around the room — a welcomed respite in the stuffy living room. Although, your skin still seared in the wake of his absent-minded touch on your ankle.
You settled down, even if only for a moment. Your eyes closed briefly but fluttered open when you felt the gentle movement of John's fingers adjusting your gold anklet. It tickled softly as he carefully dragged the delicate chain into position, the clasp sitting just above your heel.
Another beat passes, and you shuffle into a sitting position. You let out another frustrated huff of air as your feet tuck beneath your legs. You gather your hair lazily and twist it into a something that resembles a bun, securing it with a claw clip — your tipsy eyes peering over your shoulder at John.
For a brief second, a calculation runs through your mind. You're drunk. You're warm. You're restless. And the boundaries in your friendship with John seems to be slipping as the night goes on.
With another one of those sulky huffs of air, your arm reaches around your back, and slips underneath your cropped t-shirt. You'd done well to last this long with your bra on but, now, it had to go.
You fumbled with the clasp for a second before you felt a warm hand nudge yours out of the way. John had leaned forward, from the comfort of the crease in the cushions, and had slipped his hand beneath your cropped t-shirt. His palm grazed over your skin, his touch warm but gentle. Then, with one effortless movement, John unclasps your bra.
You feel the band loosen instantly and slide the straps off your shoulders, your eyes peering over your shoulder once more with a look that says: you're far too good at that. He eases himself back into the comfort of the sofa cushions, shoulders relaxed, and simply gives you a nonchalant shrug in response. The rim of the bottle grazes his bottom lip — hiding the slight smirk that tugs the corners of his lips upwards.
You roll your eyes in a way that dismisses the hint of smugness etched into his features. He simply just takes another swig of his beer and adjusts his legs, spreading them more comfortably. His gaze is subdued, and a little hazy, as he watches your bra land on the arm chair.
He lets out a breath of a laugh, letting you settle back down. The soles of your feet land on his thigh, your knees bent. His hand finds your knee and slides gently down your thigh. The movment is slow and eventually comes to a stop mid-thigh, with his palm resting flat against your skin.
Then, as if the last few moments hadn't just happened, his hazel eyes set back on the TV screen.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Accidentally slipping into couple habits (buying each other food, remembering their exact coffee order, fixing their collar, etc.). with John stones pls!!! maybe friends to lovers <3
CHEAP BEER, WARM SKIN - JOHN STONES
masterlist | world cup party | make a request here
summary: pushing the boundaries of your friendship on a warm summer's evening never felt so natural.
warnings: idk she gets her tits out. touching? it's entirely too pg for the tone of this.
It was late. The mid-July sun had finally retired and left the sky in a blanket of vivid tangerine, and the humid air had finally relented. A gentle breeze blew through the open French double doors and circulated around the open-plan living space as the sound of the TV filled the background.
As the night had progressed, the small gathering had become smaller and smaller, bodies dropping one by one until it was just you and John left. You lay on your side on the cream sofa, a cushion propped beneath your head as your bare feet lay across his lap. Your painted toes pushed gently against the arm of the sofa, your calves resting casually on his thighs. He sat back lazily with his legs spread; he'd never looked more relaxed in his life.
A moment of stillness passed before you felt the soft pat of hand on your ankle. Letting out a soft huff of air, you lifted your feet, and John slipped out from beneath you. As he stood up, he grabbed his empty bottle of beer from the coffee table. His eyes briefly flicked over to your own empty glass; the same glass that he kept in his cupboard for nights like this; the same glass that was undoubtedly yours — with the scalloped rim and pink bow pattern repeated across the glass.
His feet pad gently against the carpet as he makes his way into the kitchen, the tiles a welcomed cool. He opens up the fridge and pulls out another bottle of beer, followed by a can of the blue raspberry vodka mix that you'd been drinking all night. He pops the cap off his beer with ease, takes a quick swig, and then pops four of the rounded ice cubes out the tray, into your glass. He pours the cocktail over the ice cubes and garnishes with a slice of lemon. It was just how you'd been making your drinks all night.
John made his way back to the sofa. He placed your glass of blue raspberry cocktail down on the coffee table in front of you and settled back down on the cushions. He leant back into cushions and spread his legs, just as he had before. Your feet returned to his lap in an instant, and he accepted them without complaint as he rested his palm gently on your ankle.
The minutes drag on with the only sound between you both being the TV, that was playing an episode of a long-running police drama. Then, you twist your body, reaching for the glass on the wooden coffee table. The warmth of his hand on your ankle spreads as you move, his soft palm gliding along the curve of your shin unintentionally.
You twist back and then shift onto your back, your feet now pressed against the arm of the sofa once again. You're restless. You let out frustrated huff of air, your wrist flailing over your forehead. "I'm warm," you gripe with a heavy sigh and peer up at John through thick, dark lashes.
His grey-green eyes fall to you as one hand brings the half-empty beer bottle up to his mouth, and the other now rubs soothing circles over your shin. He takes a swig of his beer in the most effortless manner before reaching over the arm of the sofa to press the button on the fan. A flurry of cool air blows around the room — a welcomed respite in the stuffy living room. Although, your skin still seared in the wake of his absent-minded touch on your ankle.
You settled down, even if only for a moment. Your eyes closed briefly but fluttered open when you felt the gentle movement of John's fingers adjusting your gold anklet. It tickled softly as he carefully dragged the delicate chain into position, the clasp sitting just above your heel.
Another beat passes, and you shuffle into a sitting position. You let out another frustrated huff of air as your feet tuck beneath your legs. You gather your hair lazily and twist it into a something that resembles a bun, securing it with a claw clip — your tipsy eyes peering over your shoulder at John.
For a brief second, a calculation runs through your mind. You're drunk. You're warm. You're restless. And the boundaries in your friendship with John seems to be slipping as the night goes on.
With another one of those sulky huffs of air, your arm reaches around your back, and slips underneath your cropped t-shirt. You'd done well to last this long with your bra on but, now, it had to go.
You fumbled with the clasp for a second before you felt a warm hand nudge yours out of the way. John had leaned forward, from the comfort of the crease in the cushions, and had slipped his hand beneath your cropped t-shirt. His palm grazed over your skin, his touch warm but gentle. Then, with one effortless movement, John unclasps your bra.
You feel the band loosen instantly and slide the straps off your shoulders, your eyes peering over your shoulder once more with a look that says: you're far too good at that. He eases himself back into the comfort of the sofa cushions, shoulders relaxed, and simply gives you a nonchalant shrug in response. The rim of the bottle grazes his bottom lip — hiding the slight smirk that tugs the corners of his lips upwards.
You roll your eyes in a way that dismisses the hint of smugness etched into his features. He simply just takes another swig of his beer and adjusts his legs, spreading them more comfortably. His gaze is subdued, and a little hazy, as he watches your bra land on the arm chair.
He lets out a breath of a laugh, letting you settle back down. The soles of your feet land on his thigh, your knees bent. His hand finds your knee and slides gently down your thigh. The movment is slow and eventually comes to a stop mid-thigh, with his palm resting flat against your skin.
Then, as if the last few moments hadn't just happened, his hazel eyes set back on the TV screen.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
in all seriousness, the boys played well and they made their country proud (mostly). i will never be a fan of the back passing tactic (it drives me up the wall) but they made some good runs.
the downfall was the late substitutions at like 96 minutes and the tactic change from neutral to all defence. those subs should have come immediately after the goal. we knew there was going to be a late goal from argentina and six defenders on the pitch left us really really short when we had the opportunity to get to the goal.
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